Musings of a Displaced Yankee: Ticking Along

Middle of January... nothing much going on... life is good, but not wildly exciting. The weather is still cold and it's been rainy, though neither of those two things have been too extreme.

We have mostly been hanging out, going to playgroups, spending time with each other and getting back into the swing of things after B's paternity leave/holiday ended. I have more confidence with this baby than I did with the first and that has made a big difference to my outlook. I think I did the right thing by resting so much after the birth. Mentally, I think I was ready to go out near the week mark, but physically was a different story. Now at 5 weeks postpartum I feel almost normal. I surprised E the other day by chasing him pell mell through the park and then letting him pursue me around and around a large tree.

I find that he's a happier boy when out and about in nature. There are these places in the UK they call "soft play" areas which are basically large warehousey type rooms with padded play structures. Think Chuck-E-Cheese without the arcades and prize machine stuff. It's climbing frames, slides, ball pits, etc. There's a soft play place at the bottom of our hill which is convenient. The problem is these places are so loud, with kids yelling and screaming, music going in the background, that it seems to wind him up tight like a spring. Heck, it winds ME up. I've pretty much resolved not to go down to our local place again unless I know for sure it's not crowded. A handful of kids is fine but overcrowding just worsens the situation and instead of peacefully getting his energy out, E ends up needing to decompress, having dealt with a bunch of loud kids.

So... next time I consider going down there I think I might save my 5 quid and try going to the park. Even if it's raining I can suit him up in his waterproofs and boots and carry an umbrella, and C has a rain cover for the stroller. The biggest drawback to that is the cold. But I'd rather be cold than stressed, and E responds so well to being surrounded by nature and being able to run and jump unconfined by padded walls.

I was just talking to Dad about how wild-camping on Hog Island has made some of the best memories of my life. A mile out into the bay, with wilderness on both sides (true wilderness on one side, with roaming Tule elk), I'll never forget going out there year after year around Halloween, setting up our camouflage tent, sitting around the campfire cooking, sailing/rowing around the bay and to the chalky cliffs and deserted beaches of the untouched wilderness. I remember learning how to scull in a damn hurry when, in my first solo row around the island at age 7, one of the oarlocks broke and the current was carrying me toward the Pacific Ocean. (Although I reckon the sheer horror on Dad's face as he stood on the beach watching rather helplessly contributed to my sculling skills.)

I hope E and C grow up knowing those types of memories. The feel of a campfire on a cold night, the taste of your own food, cooked over that fire. The beautiful silence of wilderness. The cry of the gulls in the morning. The patter of rain against a waterproof tent roof. The smell of salt air.

(Yes, both kids are sleeping, so I can wax poetic, but C is stirring so I'd better wrap this up.)

Squashy baby is growing!